The light moves in the rippled patterns of blown liquid refracting. Sinuous, clear, electric nets oscillate across the wall, spreading out from particular spots at some moments and shivering in decreasing frenzy out toward the alley. Soft filtered color traces through some of the lines, transforming as they twist upon themselves, idle yellow to lukewarm grey spueth across the wall, disappearing, impoverished, arising charitably and truthfully clear again, the green hopes of the regenerated creature precede its old rose anguish, and truthfully clear again before the void where the strand of light wastes its gift and recedes further. In its absence the black seal of death, the orange end.

Through the night you shiver back through the day. The tendrils of light that swirl around you do not harbour memory. You do not remember. The places still are and the objects still where your hands aligned them. Things touch places forever. The end is in orange pressed into your eyes in sleep, the tiny daily suicide. In it is the empty afternoon apartment, yellow with self scrutiny, leave the city, leave the long rays through blinds that ignite the grey dust of your breath, leave the must palazzo, wake up to a green sky through the alley window in your empty bedroom at dusk across the hollow sky dome, the ubiquitously hollow apartment swollen static from the pressure of your grog and on the street is black prenight emptiness, black puddles, black churches, solid places not carved open by memories. When night fell the light arose again filled with violet, forcefully evacuating the city, leaving you sealed, moony, with your sleepless self accusation.

Everything floats and sinks in unison, a tidal city riding the tides. Tepid water seeps in beneath the legs of kitchen tables, beneath mugs on kitchen tables, beneath your kneeling knees, the soles of your feet, lifting you and they all away from the surface of home concurrently and some time setting it all back down, the entire city sinking back into the wet sand gently but deeply and slightly rearranged. Where you were in relation to the things around you is the same. Things do not just move. Beyond the doorways, outside and inside, around gated corners, all may change. The effects you fear that you have caused are played out all together, all around, and always, but not by you. You are part of them.